


Lazy Morning

by ro_shepard



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, Masturbation, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Voyeurism, bootylicious cullen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-26 17:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13862238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ro_shepard/pseuds/ro_shepard
Summary: Reader Insert: A glimpse at a lazy morning with the Inquisitor (you) and Cullen.





	Lazy Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first reader insert fic, so let's see how this goes, shall we?
> 
> Inspiration for this fic was provided by this [tantalizing sketch of Cullen](https://chatnoir-art.tumblr.com/post/167950465809/thanks-a-lot-for-the-coffee) (nsfw) by the ever lovely @chatnoir-art on tumblr.
> 
> This is a drawn out affair. Just FYI if that's not your thing.

Five minutes?

Ten?

Fifteen?

You cannot really say for sure how long you've been watching him, at least long enough to temper your cup as you slowly bring it to your lips. The liquid flows, hot and swift over your tongue and you swallow gratefully, enjoying the Orleisan delicacy as your eyes continue to savor another treat - the naked form of Commander Cullen, who is contently sleeping in your bed. 

You quietly thank the Maker.

As you lean back on your chaise, your loosely-belted robe shifts with you as you fold your legs to your side. The expanse of sun-kissed ivory skin contrasts over the emerald green sheets, which are not serving much purpose as they lie, bunched and wrinkled at his side, barely concealing his bottom half. You take another sip from your cup as your look over his solid legs, the right is straight and mostly covered while the left is bent toward you and exposed. You follow his hamstring and instinctively bite the corner of your lip, trailing your eyes over the curve of his bare ass. No longer were those cheeks flush from your grip as you held him close the night before, trying to pull him in deeper. No longer were those cheeks tense from exertion as he obliged your wanton pleas and thoroughly fucked you. Instead, you now admire the round plumpness of the commander's ass, tempted to bite, to squeeze, to smack those appetizing buns.

Maker.

You slide your hand along the length of your neck, slipping the edge of your robe aside to rub your shoulder. You can feel yourself starting to react to the memories of the night before. Cullen was not the first man you experienced, but he was the first to be so  _considerate_  of your needs, making sure that he gave you pleasure as he chased after his own. 

You lean forward, setting your cup down, and settle back again, this time, resting your head back against a pillow and extending your legs. You turn your head back to him, the sculpture of a man who, in the midst of a war, became your light in the darkness, your shoulder to lean on, your pillar of strength. As you continue to observe him, you follow the musculature of his back and arms, the latter tucked underneath his head and pillow. Strength indeed. The commander's hardened body was forged from a life of service and constant training. You slip the tip of your thumb between your teeth as you notice thin red lines scattered over his broad shoulders, evidence of your raw and primal hunger, of which the commander, with that deviously delicious smirk of his, had been willing to satiate. 

More confirmation of the vigorous night before was reflected in his hair, those golden curls forced from place by your hands. His perfect hair becoming more and more undone as you slid your fingertips over his scalp. You tugged at his locks subconsciously as he asked, lustful and low in your ear, if you liked the way he felt inside of you.  

For the record, you did not have the breath to respond.

You finally rest upon his face and your lips part, as the rays from the morning sun adorned his softened features. You wonder how anyone could be so strikingly handsome. You smile slightly to yourself as you note his relaxed expression. After all this time, after all the pain and torment, Cullen finally looks peaceful. He always seems to sleep better when you are together.

The hair over his cheeks and chin has grown some, and while you are fairly certain the commander will shave today, your thoughts slip to how wonderful his beard feels against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Your hand travels down the slit of your robe, over the soft skin of your stomach as you continue to recall the mischievous gleam of  those golden amber eyes, staring intently up into your own as he continued to rub his cheeks against you before finally... finally... _Yes. Maker, yes._

You are lost now, completely taken by the memories of last night, of the many times before, and your hand moves lower to the center of your heat. Andraste preserve you, how can this man affect you so much? The simple thought of him just...

You close your eyes and your tongue lightly wets your bottom lip. Your teeth follow right behind. You imagine Cullen, your love and your commander, servicing you willing and eagerly. Your fingers circle over your bundle of nerves, trying to mimic the tip of a skilled tongue,  _his_ skilled tongue and you start to tense, feeling your body pull taunt with need.

You hear him now, deep and throaty, haunted whispers that replay in your mind, encouraging you to let go. It is the flash of his smirk that does it, that sexy, smug grin of the commander, pleased with himself, that topples you over the edge. You bite down to hold in your whimpers of satisfaction, not wanting to awaken your sleeping lion. You pause to regain your breath, withdrawing the hand between your legs up to rest on your stomach, the other lazily drapes over your forehead. The remnants of your robe having slipped away from your curves, exposing your breasts to the cool morning air. You need a moment, just a moment more to calm your heartbeat, but the murmur of a husky, sleepy voice increases its pace once more.

"Maker, you are beautiful."

You've been caught.

* * *

The smooth, rich sound of Cullen's voice in your private moment causes your eyes to spring open and a creeping warmth spreads over your face. _How much did he see? How long has he been awake?_  You begin to wonder, as your eyes lift to meet his. Cullen is still resting on his stomach, his arms still folded underneath his pillow, yet the smirk that graces his lips spreads and crinkles the corners of his eyes. You realize that he has been awake long enough to have seen _everything_. 

Your blush spreads.

"You're staring," you accuse, coyly pulling your robe over your chest.

Cullen chuckles low and sweet, "I believe you were staring at me first."

You tilt your head and slowly run your eyes over his form again, knowing that you have his attention, "With a magnificent ass like that, could you blame me?" 

Cullen slides his arms from the pillow and turns onto his side, facing you. You try to maintain eye contact with him, to stay focused on those golden-brown eyes haloed in sunlight, but your gaze drifts to the patch of light hair dusting his chest. It trails teasingly lower, down his stomach, to his...

_Oh._

_Ooohh._

Apparently the commander liked your display. Your breath catches in your throat. "You could have assisted me, Commander," you tease, lifting a brow.

Cullen returns the slow assessment, his eyes travel over your form slowly and he methodically licks his lips, a lion assessing his prey. "I could have, yes," he says simply. His eyes meet yours and the heat of his stare makes you squeeze your thighs together. "But, I was thoroughly enjoying the view." The corner of his lip quirks up again and he extends his hand out to you.

You lower your eyes, a rare display of shyness, and look at him over your lashes. You do not recall rising from the chaise. You do not recall your sauntered steps, but soon your hand falls gently into his and he draws you near. You watch with hooded eyes as he brings your palm to his cheek, teasing the sensitive skin with his stubble only to end with a searing kiss on the inside of your wrist. 

"Cullen," you whisper heavily and a strong hand caresses your cheek on its way to hold the back of your neck.

"You are so beautiful when you let go," he says, his lips brush lightly against your own, but he does not kiss you. Not yet. 

You lean in and inhale his subtle, lingered scent that reminds you of a warm spring rain. Hoping to close the gap, you bring your mouth closer to his, but the commander evades you, setting his mouth on your jaw, sampling you with butterfly kisses.

"Were you thinking about me?" he asks, slipping his hands into the front of your robe, "imagining my tongue teasing that sweet spot of yours," his fingers brush against the curve of your breasts, " _devouring_ you," he growls as he nips your ear.

"Cullen, please," you whimper, shrugging out of your robe, allowing him more access. The commander accepts your offer, placing a calloused hand over one of your breasts, squeezing possessively. Cullen is so polite in the open, always mindful of how and where he touches you, chaste and formal in intent. Yet, when you are alone like this, he handles your body as he would his own sword and shield, with familiarity and precision, grace and dominance, reverence and appreciation. 

"What would you have of me?" Cullen asks, his breath is hot against your neck as he thumbs over a puckered nipple. The side of his face softly scratches against yours as he pulls back to look at you. His deep honey eyes are nearly eclipsed by his desire. 

Enough.

You place a hand on the commander's chest and feel him flex instinctively as you push him back against the bed. He arches that enticing brow again and moans with satisfaction as you settle into his lap, finally claiming his mouth for your own. Your tongue slips out to taste his scar, eventually sucking his top lip into your mouth, reveling his taste. You hear your lion rumble low in his chest and he tightly wraps his arms around you, maneuvering your body so that you can feel him, hot and hard, against your ass. Your fingers slide down the plane of his torso, following the trail of hair and muscle until you reach his hidden nest of golden curls. You find what you are seeking and, with a wicked grin, slip the tip of his arousal inside of you. 

Cullen hisses, clenching his teeth, his eyes deviating to watch as you slowly impale yourself on his cock. You stop, the girth of him stretching you can be too much to handle at times, but the weight of his hands falls onto your hips and he coaxes you sweetly to take all of him.

You do, of course you do, because the sensation of being filled by him is so incredibly satisfying. 

_Maker._

You begin to move, swirling your hips as you both find a mutually beneficial rhythm. Your hands find purchase on your headboard and you brace yourself, taking what you need, unapologetically, from your commander.

Cullen grunts his approval of your assertiveness, understanding that while you love to submit to him in your sexual escapades, you also have a need to control. He understands because he is the same. He smacks his palm sharply against your ass as you ride him.

"Maker's breath," he swears, his brow is damp with sweat and his face is tense and red. His beard scratches the tops of your breasts as you bounce exquisitely over him. He bends his head to capture one nipple, then the other, toying with his teeth and tongue, a sweet mix of pleasure and pain.

You moan, the stimulation is becoming too much and your pace falters, your breath transforms into heated pants. Cullen feels you slipping and, with a possessive growl, he pulls you tightly against his chest and takes over the tempo. His thrusts from below sends shockwaves up your spine. His deep, sensual vocals are music to your ears. You love hearing his enjoyment of your body. Soon, your gratified cries of release echo across your chambers, but Cullen does not stop. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, grazing his teeth along your throat as he continues to fuck you, determined to get his own fulfillment.  

And, he does.

With a shout Cullen peaks, trapping you in place until he is completely spent and it is only then when he looses his arms. Your bones might as well be jelly as you remain draped over him, unable to move. You sigh blissfully as his hands begin to tenderly caress your back. The moment passes and you let it, deciding to indulge yourself. You both deserve the peace.

"How did I get so fortunate?" he muses quietly.

You smile against his chest, "Hmmm... maybe that coin of yours truly is lucky," you return, circling one of his nipples with a delicate finger.

"I may need it back," he teases.

You tilt your head to peer into those expressive amber eyes and you know, with all of your heart, that he loves you. He gives you a crooked grin, "You know, I'm not the only one with magnificent assets," he confesses and you feel his hands drift to your bottom, giving you a playful squeeze.

Maker take you both, nothing will be accomplished today. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> tumblr: @spectre-ro


End file.
